


Neville Longbottom: the One with the Power to Defeat the Dark Lord (Part 1)

by cuyahogafalls_ohio



Series: Neville Longbottom: the One with the Power to Defeat the Dark Lord [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boy-Who-Lived Neville Longbottom, Gen, POV Neville Longbottom, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-01-21 10:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21297626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuyahogafalls_ohio/pseuds/cuyahogafalls_ohio
Summary: I've always wanted a detailed account of all seven books from Neville's point of view if he had been the one Voldemort had "marked as his equal". I've seen wrong boy-who-lived stories from Harry's point of view and wrong boy-who-lived stories with a huge departure from canon, but I want to stick to canon as much as possible (which won't be much by the end of things-- butterfly effect and all) and have it focus on Neville the way the original books focus on Harry. Essentially, this is my take on "what would be different if Voldemort had chosen Neville, instead of Harry?"
Series: Neville Longbottom: the One with the Power to Defeat the Dark Lord [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535291
Comments: 13
Kudos: 27





	1. Voldemort Chooses a Baby to Kill

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this for myself so I can finally get the thorough Neville-as-Chosen-One story I've wanted since I started reading HPFF, but will be happy if others enjoy it. I post very slowly and I am not sticking to any schedule, but will post chapters as I finish chapters-- so, when I finally finish chapter 3, I will post Chapter 2 and start working on Chapter 4. I will take criticism especially in the form of fixing "Britishisms" as I'm from the US, but obligatory disclaimer that this is my first published fic so please be kind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what happened to the title of this chapter, but it got saved as "Voldemort Chooses a" and I don't remember what I was actually going to call it so I decided to just be really blunt about it.

Voldemort sat in his favourite arm chair. It wasn’t  _ blatantly  _ like a throne, merely close enough to invoke the idea of one. It also provided him with added height, ensuring he was taller than even his largest Death Eaters. None of the Deah Eaters gathered in front of him today were of the largest stature, so he was safely the focal point of the room. The five Death Eaters he had summoned to this meeting were the most trustworthy of the latest generation to join his cause. They ranged in age from young Rabastan, who was not quite 18-years-old and freshly graduated from Hogwarts, to Lucius, who was barely 24. Their youth made them valuable assets in terms of passion and energy. He looked around, reading their faces as he swept his eyes across the room. Bellatrix was looking at him with her usual adoring gaze. Rodolphus was looking smug as usual, his hand clasped tightly on Bellatrix’s thigh. Rabastan was looking at him in a way much like Bellatrix was, his adoring gaze making Voldemort need to supress a smirk. If he hadn’t, the smirk on his face would have been wider than the ones Rodolphus and Lucius were sporting. Lucius was the next recipient of Voldemort’s gaze and he noted that the young man didn’t look as outwardly smug as Rodolphus did. However, Voldemort was apt at reading faces and could tell the man felt special for being here, for being one of Voldemort’s closest young followers. And finally, Severus Snape, who had earned his place here by gifting Voldemort with the knowledge that he was now about to share with the others. 

“Good evening, my loyal followers,” he said. 

“My Lord, respectfully, what is  _ he  _ doing here? Isn’t he  _ half-blood _ ? Since when is he one of your  _ most  _ loyal followers?” Bellatrix said, pointing at Severus. Severus, to his credit, took it very well-- ignoring Bellatrix completely and keeping his attention focused on Voldemort. 

“Good question, Bella.  _ He _ is here because he has delivered me some information that may save my life,” Voldemort said. Bellatrix looked confused and started to splutter protests but Voldemort cut her off. He didn’t need to use Legilimens to know what her argument would be. “Yes, despite all that I have done to thwart death, Severus has brought me knowledge of a Prophecy that has let me know that all of this may still not be enough.” He noted the various reactions of this generation of inner followers at him having used ‘Severus’ instead of ‘Snape’ or a droll pronoun-- Lucius lifted an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, Rodolphus’s eyes widened a small amount, and both Bellatrix and Rastaban frowned. Severus, again, was able to ignore it and not react. Voldemort was intrigued by the control he had-- not even a split-second reaction before he hid it, the man simply had not reacted at all. He called upon his newest young follower to speak. “Severus, if you please?” 

Severus stood. “Well, my Lord, I did not hear the full prophecy before the blasted barman at the Hog’s Head realized I was listening in, but I did hear the following:  _ The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… _ unfortunately it was at that point that I was pulled away. I did not hear any more, except faint words that I couldn’t make out but confirmed for me that there was, in fact, more.” He sat back down, melting in the shadows as much as the small room allowed. 

“Thank you Severus. Considering the prophecy was being made to Albus Dumbledore, I am pleased that you heard as much as you did. Merlin knows, he would rather I know nothing about it so he can use it to defeat me. But now we do know some of it, and we can act. Tell me, do any of you know anyone who fits these qualities? Someone who has thrice defied me and had a child this past July?” 

“The Potters,” Severus said, looking disgusted. 

“Is that it?” Voldemort said. It was times like this he thought he might have genuinely enjoyed teaching-- but no matter about that any more. He watched these five followers look at him with a variety of expressions that ranged from confused to politely interested, but none of them knew the answer Voldemort was seeking. He tutted at them, but gently. “I am disappointed you do not track my enemies better than this. Disappointed in  _ all  _ of you.” He made sure to make eye contact with each of his five followers before revealing the answer. 

“Alice and Frank Longbottom.” 

Bellatrix and Lucius both looked like they should have known that, and indeed they should have. Severus looked-- a bit relieved? Voldemort filed that reaction away, since Severus had earlier shown he had the ability to hide his reactions. Rodolphus and Rabastan simply looked attentive, something Voldemort appreciated about the brothers. 

“Yes, while there are some intriguing similarities between the Potter boy and myself, I do wonder if the Longbottom boy is the hero the Prophecy predicted would save the precious Mudbloods from my reign of terror, as it were. A baby from a Light, pure-blood family that has always been on the opposing side of Dark Lords? While it is true that the Potters are much the same as the Longbottoms in that regard, the family of Alice, the Longbottom boy’s mother, is just as proud and light and anti-Dark Lord as the father’s family, unlike the Potter boy’s maternal family which is made up of muggles who seem to care not a bit for the gift their daughter was blessed with.” He did not tell them the real reason-- he thought that because of the Potter boy’s Mudblood mother, Dumbledore would assume that Voldemort would choose the Potters over the Longbottoms. There were superficial similarities between Voldemort’s heritage and the Potter boy’s that had given Voldemort the idea. Who cared if the Potter boy’s mother was a Mudblood and Voldemort’s father had been a Muggle? It didn’t give them that much in common, really, but it was enough to make  _ Dumbledore  _ think he’d go after Potter, thus making Longbottom less protected. 

He continued with his speech, telling his followers the information he  _ was  _ willing to share with them. “With both families being associated with the Order of the Phoenix, I don’t think I will get a second chance to eradicate this threat. I think I must choose-- and choose correctly. The fact Dumbledore knows about this doubles my suspicion. As much as I may like to simply kill both the boys and have this behind me, I fear Dumbledore won’t give me a second chance once I’ve done away with one of them. So, I do want your opinions. I recognize that your perspectives will be valuable. So please, tell me your thoughts.” 

No one spoke right away, looking at each other instead of Voldemort. Severus, he noticed, looked particularly blank-faced in a way which Voldemort suspected was hiding some real feelings. Voldemort found that interesting, and made a mental note to look into it. 

The silence, and the fact it meant his followers were not being forthcoming with their thoughts, quickly stopped being amusing. “Lucius?” he said, prompting the follower of this age group he trusted most. 

“I’m inclined to think the pureblooded boy from the light family is the one that’s more of a threat,” Lucius said evenly. 

“Rodolphus?” 

“I agree with Lucius, my Lord,” he said. “Who cares about some Mudblood spawn when there’s a child of an Ancient and Most Noble house that could threaten you?” 

“Severus?” 

“I went to school with the Potters, and not the Longbottoms, and I fear that will bias my input,” he said, unknowingly, or perhaps pointedly, explaining away the look of relief that had crossed his face upon hearing the Potters weren’t the only option. 

“Are you  _ fond  _ of the Potters, Severus?” he asked. 

“No,” Severus answered, but Bellatrix seemed unable to help herself from interjecting. 

“Not the Potter father, they  _ loathed  _ each other, but I went to Hogwarts with them, I know, he  _ likes  _ the Mudblood bitch that Potter married!” 

Voldemort turned to look at Severus, raising one eyebrow to prompt the man to speak. “That is, essentially, what I meant, yes. But we had a-- falling out. While I would still be a bit uncomfortable seeing any harm come to her, she’s nothing more than a childhood friend. I don’t need my personal feelings influencing your decision.” 

“Well, I appreciate your honesty if nothing else. You are all dismissed. I will take your perspectives into consideration. Be prepared for me to call upon you again-- I have some Ministry contacts that need watched and  _ persuaded _ to our way of things.” 


	2. the Daily Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort went after Neville instead of Harry and this is what the Daily Prophet has to say about it. Also, is Neville nearly a squib? Everyone's most/least favourite reporter, Rita Skeeter, has an editorial about that juicy piece of gossip.
> 
> I edited this since it has been posted for one reason-- I realized that Sirius and James being aurors was canon rather than fanon, and decided that I did not want Sirius to be an Auror, especially not as a 20-year-old just a few years out of Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow I didn't think I'd get any kudos or comments, thanks! I really am just uploading this for myself but as I said last chapter, if anyone else enjoys it then great! I do take criticism and especially recommendations about "Britishisms" given that I am from the U.S. If anyone reads this, enjoy! and if not, shoutout to my future self.

_ Front page, Daily Prophet: November 2nd, 1981 _

_ YOU-KNOW-WHO DEFEATED AT HANDS OF LONGBOTTOM BABY _

_ Alice and Frank Longbottom found dead, baby Neville unharmed except scar, Dark Lord vanquished _

_ By Oliver Smith _

Sources close to the Minister of Magic and Albus Dumbledore himself have confirmed the rumours-- You-Know-Who has been defeated. Our sources have clarified what happened on Halloween night. 

You-Know-Who made his way to Longbottom Manor for unknown reasons-- though the couple were well-known and active resistors of You-Know-Who. He used the Killing Curse on both Alice and Frank Longbottom, but when he turned his wand on one-year-old Neville, the Killing Curse reflected and killed You-Know-Who instead. Despite exclusive interviews with everyone from Albus Dumbledore to Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries, no one knows why this occurred. 

Dumbledore did, however, have a rather pessimistic take to share with Wizarding Britain. “I am not sure this is over,” he warned. “You-Know-Who [_ editor’s note: Dumbledore actually used the name but we will not print that here as to not frighten our readers _] went further than any wizard I know of in all of history in avoiding death. However, I am confident this will give Wizarding Britain many years of peace while [You-Know-Who] finds a way to regain his body and his strength.” 

The Minister of Magic had a much different take. “Citizens of Wizarding Britain, rejoice! The reign of terror is over! We can go back to our regular lives without living in fear!” 

Augusta Longbottom was available for comment, but in her grief over the loss of her only son and daughter-in-law, she only had this to say: “Frank and Alice were incredibly brave, incredibly talented members of the resistance against You-Know-Who and would be proud of the role they played in bringing about the defeat of You-Know-Who. I will be taking custody of the baby Neville as his closest living relative, and will ensure he has an upbringing befitting a hero with such a proud legacy.” 

Augusta would not comment further about the baby Neville or her plans to raise him except, “after my own consideration and the advice of several other important wizards such as Dumbledore himself, we will be keeping Neville away from the public eye.” 

* * *

_ Page 14, Daily Prophet: November 2nd, 1980 _

_ Mr. James Potter and Mrs. Lily Potter tortured extensively in final Death Eater attack _

_ By Amelia Jones _

Last night, following the wonderful news of You-Know-Who’s downfall, three confirmed Death Eaters were caught applying extensive torture spells to Mr. and Mrs. Potter of Godric Hollow. It is unclear why they thought the Potters had a connection to the fall of You-Know-Who. The Potters are in custody at St. Mungo’s, where they will remain until Mediwizards can improve their condition. The Death Eaters are in custody of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and will soon be on trial. Sources are confident they will face a lifetime in Azkaban for their senseless torture of the innocent couple. Baby Harry has been placed in temporary custody with family friend Peter Pettigrew, after much consideration about whether or not to place him with his maternal Muggle family. Harry Potter’s godfather, Sirius Black, is facing trial as well for unnecessary use of lethal force in apprehending his cousin Bellatrix, one of the Death Eaters involved with the attack. She did survive, but the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is expected to make an example out of Mr. Black, as he did use the Crucius curse and the use of Unforgiveable Curses is not acceptable even against Death Eaters. More details to come. 

* * *

_ Page 6, the Daily Prophet: May 2nd, 1989 _

_ Longbottom Boy a Fraud? _

_ Rita Skeeter’s exclusive report on the Boy-Who-Lived -- or perhaps, simply the Boy-Who-Got-Lucky _

Sources close to the Longbottom family have revealed the family’s best-kept secret-- Little Neville Longbottom, usually hailed as a savior to Wizardkind for his role in You-Know-Who being defeated, may be little more than a squib. 

“Oh yes!” said my source, who requested to remain anonymous. “It’s true, the Longbottom boy isn’t anything particularly special. It took _ years _for anyone to get any accidental magic out of him-- his great Uncle Algernon had to throw him off a second story balcony! Fortunately the boy bounced, so they are confident he’s not a squib, but he certainly hasn’t shown the magical prowess that Wizardingkind was hoping for from the boy who saved us from You-Know-Who!” 

I asked my source if this could be the _ real _reason that, as published here in the Daily Prophet many years ago, Dumbledore advised Mrs. Longbottom to keep him shut away from Wizardingkind. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s possible Dumbledore knew the boy expelled all of his native magic defeating You-Know-Who. They wanted to hide him away to avoid the shame of having a boy who is nearly a squib. He’s the only heir of the Longbottom family after the tragic deaths of Frank and Alice, you know. It’s incredibly advantageous to Mrs. Longbottom to hide Neville and his lack of magical talent away from the Wizarding World at large.” 

Augusta Longbottom did give a statement, but it was brief: “The reason we’ve ‘hidden him away’ is so vultures like you don’t turn his childhood into some dramatic spectacle!” she shouted before using the wards on Longbottom Manor to have this reporter forcibly removed. This did not curtail my suspicions in the least, especially when my source is someone who is so close with the Longbottom family and has been to several family events. 

We also attempted to reach Dumbledore for comment, and his statement was very much the same as Augusta Longbottom’s: “Think of what it would do to a child to grow up in the spotlight, a hero for something he did as a baby, something he doesn’t remember, something that cost him his parents. I wanted to spare him that pain.” 

All very convenient excuses, but none that explain my source’s information that the boy has exhibited so little ability in accidental magic so far. However, Dumbledore and Mrs. Longbottom did confirm that Neville would be attending Hogwarts, which will act as his public debut. 


	3. Hogwarts Express

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This beast of a chapter is finally ready to be uploaded. Neville gets on a train and we get to finally get some content from his point of view (ish, still third person).

Neville stood on Platform 9 ¾ and said goodbye to his grandmother. He was not excited. He was not scared. He did not feel much of anything at all, except conscious of this lack of a feeling and somewhat confused by it. 

All his boring life, being kept away from other wizards at Dumbledore’s bidding, he had been told that _ someday _ he’d go to Hogwarts. He had read the Rita Skeeter article that had called it his “public debut” and did not like that. Not that he was supposed to have read the article, but sneaking a look was simple. His grandmother had tossed it into the fireplace and neglected to light a fire. But he hadn’t been able to _ talk _to anyone about it, not even his Gran, since he didn’t want to reveal he had disobeyed her instead of “not worrying about it” as she had instructed. 

Regardless of how he felt about it, the day was here, and it was, in a real way, his public debut. He could hardly believe it. He supposed that was the root of the feeling that he wasn’t feeling anything. Simple disbelief. 

“And Neville,” his grandmother began, so Neville turned his attention to her, “I want you to make lots of friends and be busy, so I will not ask you to owl me weekly, but I’ll be owling you at least once a month and expecting replies, you hear? And remember again to be very careful with your father’s wand. Tell Professor McGonagall that Augusta says hello.” She took his face in her hands and gave him a once-over before nodding approvingly. “Yes, I think you’re ready. Alright Neville. Go find a seat on the train and make some friends.” 

She gave him a final hug then turned him around, handing him his luggage and gesturing at the train for him to board. So he did. 

He was at the beginning of the train, which was already starting to fill up. His grandmother had insisted they show up somewhat early, but there were still many students whose families had had them show up even earlier. He kept an eye out for a compartment that had one or two students his own age. There was no way he was going to sit with older students, some of them already 17 years old. However, he came across several empty compartments in a row before he found anyone his own age. He decided to just sit down and hope that some friendly first or maybe second years would invite themselves in. 

Of course, no one did right away. It would have been weird if some friendly person his age popped in and became immediately his best friend. Neville felt stupid for even half-hoping it would happen. Some kids did peek in, even some around his own age, but apparently they just wanted to gawk at the Boy-Who-Lived and his stupid scar that he somewhat resented. 

Somewhat? He had lost his _ parents _ because of the stupid scar, telling himself that he ‘somewhat’ resented it was putting it lightly. If he didn’t have the scar he wouldn’t have grown up isolated. He wouldn’t have grown up parentless. He would have been just another kid, not a spectacle for the other kids to look at but not even speak to. That last thought, not coincidentally, accompanied Neville noticing _ another _kid peeking in just to look at him. 

He did feel bad resenting the scar. He had heard stories of what it was like during You-Know-Who’s reign of power. He had saved Wizarding Britain, and a huge part of him supposed he should be proud and thankful rather than resentful. 

He looked out the window, which both hid his scar and allowed him to ignore the people peaking into the doorway to gawk. He decided to allow himself to think about his disappointing childhood. 

Something he couldn’t forget even if he had wanted to due to it happening so often was his grandmother telling him that he better be ‘worth it’. It happened a lot-- maybe not daily, but nearly so. He understood without asking that this meant ‘worth’ his father’s death (and, to a lesser extent, his mother’s), and he also understood that so far, his grandmother wasn’t impressed. Not only did Gran give Neville constant reminders to honor his father’s memory, Great-Uncle Algie laid it out almost explicitly with his constant criticism. _ Frank _ wouldn’t have made such a simple mistake as mixing up basil and mint, nevermind that Neville was only four. _ Frank _ was already showing powerful accidental magic by Neville’s age. _ Frank _ would be disappointed if he saw how poor his _ only son _was on a toy broomstick. 

His worst memory, but one that summed up his childhood, was his 7th birthday party. The guests had consisted of a handful of his Gran’s old lady friends who they had deemed trustworthy, although the Rita Skeeter article showed Neville his Gran had been mistaken about that. And, despite the fact it was _ Neville’s _ birthday party, there hadn’t been a single person there under 40, let alone another kid. The guests had sat around gossiping while sipping wine and butterbeer. Eventually they got out stronger drinks and started gulping rather than sipping. The fact Neville hadn’t displayed any accidental magic yet got brought up. Neville sat there trying to accidentally magic himself invisible, but had no luck. 

Suddenly, Great-Uncle Algie had stood up and demanded Neville follow him. Neville did, confused but obedient. He led Neville up the stairs and to the library, then out onto the balcony. When Neville realized what was happening-- it was such a painful, humiliating memory, realizing he was about to be chucked from the balcony and if he died then at least they knew he had been a squib. And when he was thrown but thankfully bounced, no one seemed happy that he had _ lived _, they only seemed happy he had finally exhibited some accidental magic. That realization had been more hurtful and humiliating than being thrown from the balcony in the first place. 

“Hello, may I sit here?” said a voice, interrupting his thoughts. 

“Of course!” he said. He looked up to see who had saved him from mentally reliving the worst experience of his childhood. He was relieved to see a girl who was probably a first year, considering the fact that she didn’t even a little bit look like a teenager yet. She had a bushy head of hair that took up almost the entire doorway and her front teeth were rather large. She had a look of nervous excitement Neville thought was much more appropriate to the Hogwarts Express than his lack of any strong feelings. 

“Thank you!” she said. “I must admit, the thought of sitting with some older kids was rather intimidating. I bet it would have been a good opportunity to learn some tips and tricks about starting at Hogwarts but they’re just so big and old looking, you know?” 

Neville cracked a huge smile. “Yeah, that was my problem too! I was trying to find a compartment with someone who looked my age and there’s all these huge teenagers giving me odd looks.” 

“Yes, exactly!” she said. “I am glad I found your compartment.” And with that, she finally stopped lingering in the doorway and took a proper seat. “So, am I correct in my assumption that you’re a first year?” 

Neville nodded. “And you are too?” 

She nodded back, then abruptly stopped. Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head a bit. She had just gotten her first really good look at him, since they now sat opposite each other, and Neville felt sure that she had seen his scar. It was confirmed when she opened her mouth. “Oh my goodness, are you Neville Longbottom? I’ve read all about you-- you’re in quite a few books, you know. My favourite was _ the Rise and the Fall of the Dark Arts in the Late Twentieth Century _ . Do you remember anything at all about the night you defeated Voldemort?” Neville frowned and his brain scrambled for a way to answer _ that _ unexpected question, but before an answer could come to him the bushy-haired girl started talking again. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, what a silly question! You were only a baby, of _ course _ you don’t remember that, any more than I’d remember taking my first steps! But isn’t it _ so _ interesting that a baby defeated You-Know-Who when no one else could? I wonder what happened! I’ve read all kinds of theories but none of them really satisfy me.” She listed a few. Neville didn’t pay full attention but felt quite comfortable. She was just excited and eager to talk. “Anyway, my name is Hermione Granger and I’m a muggleborn so I’ve read all about Hogwarts since learning it exists to try to learn all about it and I’m very excited but I’m also very nervous!” She took a small breath, during which Neville didn’t even try to interject. “So, how are _ you _ feeling about starting Hogwarts?” 

Neville grinned. He was amused at the girl’s small speech and letting her take control of the conversation suited him just fine. “I dunno, I guess I have mixed feelings. I’m excited and nervous and scared, and they all kind of cancelled each other out.” 

Hermione frowned like that didn’t make sense to her, but thankfully she didn’t seem inclined to push the subject. “I guess that is understandable. I am pretty nervous myself but I’m more excited than anything else. I couldn’t believe it was real, you know, having grown up in the Muggle world. What was it like growing up in the Wizarding world?” 

“I’m not sure how much would be different from the Muggle world. Also my childhood wasn’t really normal. My grandmum and Albus Dumbledore decided that, because of the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing, I should grow up away from,” Neville rolled his eyes as he finished, “‘the spotlight’.” 

Hermione frowned at him. “Does that mean this is the first time you’ve been around kids your own age?” 

Neville frowned back at her. “Did you really get that just from me saying Dumbledore told my Gran to raise me away from the spotlight?” 

Hermione blushed. “Er, no. I told you already, I read all about the Wizarding world and you were quite a prominent part of recent current events.” Neville frowned. “I’m sorry!” Hermione continued. “It’s just that I think it’s very interesting and also, you know, Muggles always thought I was, well, weird so I never really had friends even though I wasn’t _ isolated _ so I actually kind of thought _ maybe _ that it was something we could bond over, but I know that’s awfully weird so, do you want to talk about something else?” 

Neville couldn’t wrap his head around this girl. He was worried he wouldn’t know how to interact with his peers, but Hermione had just told him she was weird and had trouble making friends. He didn’t think it was his lack of experience with others that was causing him to not know how to react to her. He didn’t dislike her, not at all, but she was a lot with her run-on sentences and paragraphs of speech. 

“Wait, does that mean you knew who I was the whole time and sought me out to try to make friends with me?” he asked, suddenly full of distrust.

Luckily, a look of horror passed over Hermione’s face. “Oh, no, of course not!” she said. “That would be incredibly weird, even for me,” she gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “I just saw you were sitting by yourself and that you looked around my age so I asked to join you. Then I saw your scar and put the pieces together, and I thought it was incredibly lucky that I met someone who I had a real chance of making friends with and maybe wouldn’t shun me for talking too much about the books I’ve read, like people usually do. Anyway, so, something else to talk about?” 

He nodded. It checked out, and despite the fact he barely knew her, Hermione didn’t seem like a liar, or a particularly good actress. He absently noted that the train was now moving. A few moments passed, and he noticed she was frowning at him and realized he had ignored her when she asked if he wanted to talk about something else. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to not answer you. I guess I’m overwhelmed. It’s my first time around people my own age, and my first time without Gran.” 

Hermione kept her mouth shut for the first time since Neville had met her and just looked at him hopefully. He smiled at her, then answered her question about changing the subject. “Yes, let’s talk about something else. I am sorry to hear you’ve never really had friends though. I never even got the chance to make any, because my Gran and Dumbledore, you know. Like we were just talking about.” 

Hermione nodded. “So, uh, let’s just change the subject entirely! What subject are you looking forward to?” she asked, smiling and seeming excited again by the time she was finished getting the question out. 

Neville smiled at her-- that was a pretty good topic to change the subject to. “Herbology. My Great-Uncle has a greenhouse he lets me help him out with, and I really like it.” 

“Oh no, not me, I have what my mom calls a brown thumb,” Hermione said. “Everything I’ve tried to grow just dies. I think I’ll enjoy Potions. I like following formulas and it seems like that’s mostly what Potions is.” 

“Oh jeez, not me,” Neville said, amused that he and Hermione had nearly opposite feelings about Potions. Maybe it would work out-- they could help each other with their respective strengths and help make up for each others’ weaknesses. “I’m clumsy. I’m sure I’ll drop something in some potion that makes it explode in my face and the teacher will be angry with me and it’ll be terrible.” 

“I’ll try to help you make sure that doesn’t happen, if we end up in the same class!” Hermione said, unfortunately reminding Neville that Hermione or really any friend he happened to make on the train might get Sorted differently, leaving him without any friends in his own House. Hermione did seem like the type who could go to Ravenclaw, a House Neville felt sure he wouldn’t get into. 

“Neville Longbottom,” said a voice from the doorway. Neville looked up at the kid who had just enterred their compartment and thought he recognized the white-blonde hair and angular features of a Malfoy, based on his grandmother’s description of Lucius and Narcissa. He felt wary, but caught himself and made a decision to be more open-minded. His grandmother had taught him not to judge people based on their family. She had told him all about Andromeda Tonks and Sirius Black, both of whom had defected from what was probably the Darkest family of the time. It was entirely possible this Malfoy kid would be like Sirius and Andromeda, and not like Bellatrix or even Lucius Malfoy, who Neville supposed was the kid’s father. 

“Are you a Malfoy?” asked Neville. He realized that he was making a lot of assumptions just based off the fact the kid in his compartment’s doorway had white-blonde hair. 

However, the kid _ sneered _ , confirming his heritage based off his similarity to what his Gran had told him about Lucius. “It’s good to be recognized. I am, in fact, Draco Malfoy, sole heir to the Malfoy line and contender to be heir to the Blacks, seeing as how cousin Sirius was removed from the family and aunt Bellatrix is incarcerated.” With this declaration, he had provided Neville with some evidence that he was not another Sirius or Andromeda. Wizards who abandoned their pureblood family’s values didn’t act so _ proud _ of their inheritance. He took a step into their compartment and suddenly two _ large _ boys stepped in behind him. The Malfoy kid must have caught Neville’s confused look, because he _ sneered _ again. “Do you have a problem with my _ friends _, Vincent and Gregory?” 

“No,” Neville said. “They’re just-- well-- they’re _ big _. They’re also first years?” 

“Yes,” Malfoy said, sounding offended on their behalf. “Their fathers and mothers are big-- that’s just the way their families are. If you’re going to be rude to us I could just leave.” 

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just er, I didn’t expect to be approached by a Malfoy. You must know that my Gran and your dad don’t get along in politics,” Neville explained, surprising himself by how smoothly the words came to him. 

Malfoy literally turned his nose up. It amused Neville how much of a stereotypical, well, _ brat _ this kid was. “Well, I am not my father and you are not your Grandmother. Let us give it a try between us, and not worry about our family affiliations,” he said in a rather pompous tone. “May me and my friends have a proper seat now?” 

Neville nodded. “Sure, why not.” 

“My friends and I,” Hermione said, suddenly. Draco looked at her, but then seemed to dismiss her. Neville didn’t like that, even if it was a little rude of Hermione to correct Draco’s grammar. 

The Malfoy kid stuck out his hand. “Let’s become formally acquainted. Draco Malfoy, as already mentioned. And again, this is Greg and Vince.” He jerked his head behind them. He also, Neville noticed, completely ignored Hermione. Neville took his hand and shook. Hermione, luckily, stood up and asserted herself before she could be shrugged off the same way Greg and Vince were. It was clear she did _ not _want anyone to assume she was Neville’s goonie instead of her own person. 

“Hermione Granger,” she said, shoving her hand forward almost as soon as Neville had his own hand back from the Malfoy boy. 

To his credit, he did take her hand and shake, but then he said, “I’ve never heard of the surname Granger. Are you a Mudblood?” 

Hermione clearly hadn’t encountered the word yet, as she just looked a bit confused. Neville, however, decided it was time to either act or get known as someone who was okay with blood prejudice. “Don’t use that word around me,” Neville said. 

Malfoy turned his attention to Neville instead of Hermione, making the act of turning his head a quarter-circle dramatic. “What word? ‘Mudblood’? Why not? She doesn’t know what it means, clearly. Why shouldn’t I use it? For _ you _ ? _ You _don’t want me to use it?” 

“I’ve heard enough. Malfoy, leave them alone. Get out of their compartment,” a new voice said from the still-open compartment door. Neville and Hermione turned to look at the newcomer, seeing a somewhat short boy with dark hair and glasses who was glaring at the Malfoy kid. A tall red-headed boy with freckles stepped in behind him. 

Malfoy gave yet another sneer. “Red hair and used robes? Don’t even tell me-- I know a Weasley when I see one. What’s it to you, blood traitor?” 

Both the newcomers rolled their eyes. The redhead spoke. “Blood traitor? Really? You just called her a-- well, _ you know what _ , and now you’re calling me a blood traitor? Are you _ trying _to make enemies before we even get to Hogwarts?” 

Malfoy frowned, looking incredibly angry. “If this is how I’m going to be treated, I will leave. Now. Come on, Vince, Greg.” 

As the three of them left, Draco bumped shoulders with the red-head kid, making both boys wince in pain since the red-head clearly knew the collision was coming and stiffened his own shoulder. Then the boys came into Neville’s compartment. “Sorry if that was weird,” said the redhead. Neville assumed that Malfoy was right and the kid was a Weasley, but decided to wait until the kid told him to be sure. 

“Not at all,” Neville said. “I was trying not to dislike him just ‘cause he’s a Malfoy, since my Gran always told me Wizards can defect from Dark families, but he did seem like a brat.” 

The redhead laughed. “He did, didn’t he? Calling someone a-- _ that _ \-- this early into the _ trainride _to Hogwarts. Are you okay?” he directed that last part to Hermione. 

Hermione frowned. “Er, what exactly just happened? Mudblood? What does that mean?” 

The dark-haired kid accompanying the redhead piped up. “It’s a nasty name for someone who is muggle born. Pureblood supremacists use it to make themselves feel special for nothing.” 

Hermione frowned. “I read all about Wizarding culture and didn’t read anything about pureblood supremacists.” 

The dark-haired kid shrugged. “I guess most authors think it’s an ugly part of our culture and don’t write about it. It’s not terribly common, only old-fashioned Dark families believe in it. After You-Know-Who it’s a very unpopular belief. No one wants to be associated with You-Know-Who.” 

“So it doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else?” Hermione said, sounding less confident than Neville had yet to hear her. 

All three boys made dismissive noises, but it was the dark-haired kid who answered. “No, of course not! My mum’s muggleborn and my uncles told me all about how magically powerful she was!” 

Hermione spoke up again, still sounding a little subdued. “I did a lot of reading before today. Are you Harry Potter? Parents tortured by Death Eaters?” 

The dark-haired kid went white and his eyes grew into big circles of shock. The redhead looked at Hermione incredulously-- it was quite an insensitive question to ask someone. Neville rolled his eyes. “Hermione, you can’t ask people things like that.” He turned his attention to the two new boys. “She did the same to me, pretty much. I know she doesn’t mean any harm by it.” 

“No, I don’t!” Hermione exclaimed, looking terrified. “I’m sorry!” 

“Oh yeah, you’re Neville Longbottom, right. Ron Weasley,” said the redhead, finally confirming the Malfoy kid’s theory. Ron extended a hand to shake, which Neville took. He then turned to the dark haired kid. 

“She was right, I am Harry Potter,” the kid said. 

“Nice to meet you. I’m Neville Longbottom.” Harry and Neville took their turn shaking hands. Neville looked over and saw that Ron and Hermione were finishing up introducing themselves to each other, and watched as Hermione turned to Harry. 

“I’m very sorry,” she said in a sweet voice. “I know I should think more before I speak, and it was really rude of me to ask you such a personal thing as the first thing I even said to you. I’ll make sure not to do it again, and work harder to think before I speak.” 

Harry smiled at her. “No worries. Let’s all be friends now. You guys don’t mind if Ron and I sit here? We were sitting with his brothers but they kept ragging on us since they’re _ third years _, as if that’s a big deal.” 

Ron rolled his eyes. “Apparently they’re _ big mature men _ and we’re just _ wittle ickle firsties _, so we have to put up with them practicing pranking charms on us.” 

“Yeah, you guys can go ahead and sit with us. Before the Malfoy kid came in it was just us two anyway,” Neville said, again surprising himself at the ease with which words came to his mouth. 

“Hey,” said a new voice from the still open compartment door. “Did I just overhear you guys saying that you have some room in your compartment?” 

A very pretty girl stood in the doorway, what looked to be a twin sister behind her. “Yes,” Neville said. “There’s only four of us here and room for six.” 

“Excellent!” she said. “My sister and I were sitting with our friends, but there were eight of us and we just did not fit in one compartment. I’m Parvati Patil, by the way. This is my sister, Padma.” 

The six young wizards all exchanged greetings and names and settled in. They found a good topic of conversation was their respective backgrounds-- they were all quite different, even with Hermione being the only Muggleborn. Before they knew it, Hermione was telling the others that it was probably time to put on their robes, and the train was slowing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point I'm just like forcing myself to get words on the page so I can stop thinking about writing this and actually write it. not feeling very confident but plowing ahead anyway. also I'm sorry my update schedule is so... not actually a schedule at all. but hey I'm doing it.


	4. The Sorting Hat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've finally finished chapter 5, which means I've finished editing chapter 4 and can post it. Sorry for the terribly slow updates that are not at all scheduled, and thanks for bearing with me if you're reading this! Neville and others get Sorted.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years o’er here!” said a big, booming, LOUD voice. Neville turned to look at the man the voice was coming from and saw someone who _ must _have been part-giant. Neville felt a little apprehensive, given the vicious reputation that giants had, but he went ahead and followed the large man as he led the first years along a moonlit path by the lake. Neville noticed that Harry was staring at their chaperone with an interesting facial expression. It wasn’t fear, like some of the first years; it was more like curiosity. After they had been walking for at least ten minutes, the man chaperoning them noticed Harry staring. His face broke into a huge smile that removed any lingering feelings of unease Neville had about the man’s size. “‘Arry Potter!” he said, still grinning. 

“Hagrid?” said Harry. 

“You do know me! I was worried yer parents wouldn’t tell ye who I am!” 

Harry grimaced but managed to still look happy. “Well, my uncles did. They gave me a list of people at Hogwarts I could trust if I need something. Your name was near the top.” 

“Ar, right, sorry, yeah, I guess yer parents-- er, well, anyway, I’m glad ter hear that yer uncles told ye to trust me. I’ve been groundskeeper here since they were in school. I’d be happy to help ye out with anything I can.” 

They made it to a beach across the lake from the castle. “Why don’t you and yer group of friends here take a boat?” Hagrid said to Harry. He then turned to instruct the rest of the first years, leaving Neville and his new friends to figure out how to fit into a boat that sat four when they were six people. 

Or not, Neville thought, as Padma and Parvati turned away from the boat. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but I think my sister and I are going to go find some of our other friends now,” said Parvati. She turned to Hermione. “Unless you’d like to come with us? Meet some of the girls?” 

Hermione grinned. “Thank you so much for the offer, but if I stick with the boys here that makes a nice group of four for our boat.” 

“That makes sense,” Padma said. 

The six brand-new Hogwarts students exchanged a round of “nice meeting you”, then the twins ran off to a group of girls. Hermione frowned after them. “Did they already know those other girls?” 

“Yeah, probably,” Neville said. 

“Most pureblood families have their kids meet up before Hogwarts. Not us though, we live in a mostly Muggle village and with seven kids my mum didn’t have much time to take us visiting other families,” Ron explained. 

“So there is some advantage to being pureblood! You meet other wizards and learn things about history and culture that muggleborns don’t!” Hermione said, looking fretful. 

“I mean, I suppose, a bit,” Harry said. “But that’s usually only the old pureblood families that care about that.” 

Hermione still looked concerned that she was starting off with a disadvantage. “Hermione, I know we just met, but I can tell you’re super smart,” Neville said. “If anyone is going to have a problem catching up with the pureblood kids, it will _ not _be you, I promise.” 

“I’m kind of hoping you catch up so much that you help the rest of us catch up, too,” Ron said. “It seems like none of us really got the pureblood advantage with me being in a Muggle village and Harry being raised by his uncles and Neville being hidden away his whole childhood.” 

Hermione smiled and looked pleased with herself. During the exchange, the quartet had been situating themselves in their boat. With a lurch that Neville did not like, all the boats took off toward the castle Hogwarts. Neville felt sick. He leaned over the edge of the boat in case he vomited. He was worried if he threw up on his new friends they would stop being his friends. 

Before too long, Neville noticed the boats slowing down and dragged himself back into his, thankful it hadn’t been too long of a boat trip. He looked up. The castle Hogwarts was a spectacular sight, even as they went underneath it to a cove. The boats landed and the first years crawled out. Neville and his new friends directed their attention to the castle walls. A woman with her hair tucked into her witch’s hat and square-framed spectacles emerged from behind a door. 

“Professor McGonagall? My Gran says hello,” Neville yelled. 

She turned to look at him, glaring. Neville immediately regretted not waiting for a better, more private moment. Then her face softened. “Trust Augusta to tell _ you _ to tell me hello rather than writing me. I’ll owl her that I received her greetings through her grandson.

“Now,” she said, addressing all of the first years, “I must ask you all to sort yourselves into a nice, orderly, single-file line.” 

The students managed to accomplish this. Neville ended up between Harry and Hermione. They followed the woman Neville had confirmed to be Professor McGonagall to a rather small room, where she stopped them and instructed them to wait. She stepped out of the room, and whispers erupted. Harry said, “I wonder how we’ll actually get Sorted! My uncles who raised me always said they couldn’t tell me. Well, except for Sirius, he said we had to wrestle a troll but I think he was joking.” 

“No way! My brothers said the same thing! I thought _ they _ were joking, but what are the chances of that? What if we do have to wrestle a troll?” Ron responded. Neither Neville or Hermione had anything to say, and Neville had a hunch Hermione wasn’t responding for the same reason he wasn’t. He was _ terrified, _and Harry and Ron’s talk of trolls was not helping. However, he was more concerned about how the Sorting could go wrong than how the Sorting actually happened. What if he was Sorted into Hufflepuff and his grandmother disowned him? What if he was Sorted into Slytherin and was an outcast for not believing in blood purity? What if, instead of being Sorted, he was told he wasn’t magically powerful enough for Hogwarts, that there had been a mistake? 

Soon enough, Professor McGonagall came back and put a stop to the whispering. She led them to the Great Hall, where they were suddenly the center of attention. Neville was very self-conscious of the fact that he was more the center of attention than anyone else. He could already hear whispers, “isn’t Neville Longbottom starting this year?” “that’s him, right, the chubby one?” “The Boy-Who-Lived is _ chubby _!?” 

He pretended he couldn’t hear, choosing to focus on Professor McGonagall. She was carrying a _ very _old looking hat to the stool set right in front of the staff table. 

Suddenly, the Great Hall fell silent, and Neville wasn’t about to break the silence to ask what was happening. The _ hat _ wound up breaking the silence by erupting into song. It sang about all four houses and their attributes, letting the first years know what they were in for. Neville didn’t learn anything new. He glanced over at Hermione and watched her. She looked like she was trying to memorize every word, although Neville figured that, given her extensive summer reading, she didn’t learn anything new either. 

The hat’s song came to an end and Professor McGonagall once again stood front and center. She had a scroll, from which she called out a name: “Abbott, Hannah.” 

A round-faced girl walked to the stool, looking frightened but determined. Neville supposed it took a fair amount of bravery to be the first one called. Professor McGonagall put the hat on Hannah’s head, and a few moments later the hat shouted, “HUFFLEPUFF!” Hannah smiled and trotted off to the yellow and black table. 

A few more names were called, although the only one Neville recognized this early in the alphabet was Bones, a girl who may or may not have been related to his Gran’s friend Amelia. The first person being Sorted he had already _ met _ was Malfoy’s henchman, Crabbe, Vincent. He was, unsurprisingly, Sorted into Slytherin. As Neville watched people get Sorted, he began to think Hufflepuff wouldn’t be such a bad house to be Sorted into, even if his grandmother _ was _ disappointed in him for it. They seemed incredibly warm and welcoming to their new first years, just a bit more than the other houses-- well, Neville amended to himself, a lot more than Slytherin. His Gran had told him Hufflepuff was the _ soft _ house, the house for people who weren’t heroes and never would be. Neville wouldn’t have _ ever _ admitted it to his Grandmother, but he thought it wouldn’t be so bad to not be a hero. He was _ raised _to prefer quiet to notoriety. If they had wanted him to be some brave hero maybe they should have let him leave the manor grounds. 

Neville took notice again as he heard a familiar name-- Malfoy’s other henchman, Goyle, Gregory. He was also Sorted into Slytherin. Despite Neville’s more relaxed feelings about Hufflepuff, he was still terrified of being Sorted into Slytherin. They simply didn’t look like a nice group of people. Many of them were tall and broad the way Gregory and Vincent were. Many of them were smirking. When a few of the kids being Sorted had stumbled on their own feet or tripped on their robes, the Slytherin table had mocked them the loudest. 

“Granger, Hermione,” said Professor McGonagall. 

Hermione _ ran _to the stool. Some of the older kids, mostly from Slytherin, laughed at her enthusiasm. She grabbed the hat before Professor McGonagall could place it onto her head and smashed it on herself. Then she waited. The rest of the school waited too, watching. She was clearly having a deep discussion with the hat, albeit silently. The soft murmur of the upper year students got a bit louder. She had taken the longest so far, although Neville felt sure it hadn’t even been a full minute. 

Finally, the hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” and Hermione trotted off to the red and gold table with a large grin. 

A few more people were Sorted, and before he could mentally prepare, Professor McGonagall was saying, “Longbottom, Neville!” Neville wished there had been more J and K surnames, but there hadn’t been. He reluctantly began walking to the stool the hat was sitting on. He noticed the commentary from the upper year students had abruptly stopped when his name was called, but as he walked over to the stool their soft voices got louder and louder. He focused on walking slowly and carefully. He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be one of the kids that tripped on their robes. 

He finally got to the stool and took a second to wonder how such a short walk could have felt so long. He sat down, and felt Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head. _ Go ahead and put me in Hufflepuff, _Neville thought as loud as he could. 

“Hufflepuff? But why? I see a lot of potential for Gryffindor,” said a voice that sounded like it was right in Neville’s ear. 

_ Gryffindor? Me? No, you must be wrong. I think I belong in Hufflepuff. _

The hat’s voice _ laughed _ . “You’re brave enough to tell an ancient artifact made by the very Founders of this school, whose entire purpose is reading brains and Sorting students, that it ‘ _ must be wrong’. _You really think you’re Hufflepuff? My boy, you are a Gryffindor, like it or not. Believe it or not.” 

Neville wanted to continue to protest, but the words of the hat sunk in and he realized protesting would only prove the hat right. 

“So you’ve already accepted it? Thank goodness, that was relatively quick. Go join your new friends in _ GRYFFINDOR _!” 

It was obvious that the hat had said that last part aloud and Neville was officially a Gryffindor. The red and gold table burst into loud cheers. _ So much for not being in the heroic House _ , he thought as he made his way to the Gryffindor table. He realized he hadn’t taken the hat off when a couple of identical red-heads who were probably Ron’s older brothers shouted at him about it. He brought the hat back, feeling his face turn bright red and knowing every person in the Great Hall was watching. He rushed back to the Gryffindor table, thankful Hermione was there. He hunched down as much as possible, his face still hot with embarrassment. However, it quickly passed as he received pats on the back and even some quick hugs from his fellow Gryffindors. Amazingly, it seemed that the other Gryffindors accepted him-- they were even _ proud _of Neville being in their house despite him clearly being more clumsy and awkward than everyone had expected. 

The excitement and disappointment of Neville being Sorted finally died down. Neville took another moment to appreciate Hermione’s presence next to him. He had been so afraid of being Sorted differently than all his new friends! Now he knew that he at least had Hermione, although he hoped Ron and Harry would be Sorted to Gryffindor, too. 

While Neville was settling in, Professor McGonagall had continued down the list of students. “Malfoy, Draco!” went to Slytherin after a mere two seconds of wearing the Sorting hat. 

“Patil, Padma!”, the more mellow and less bubbly of the twins who had sat with them on the train, went to Ravenclaw. “Patil, Parvati!” went to Gryffindor. She went over to a girl she had sat with on the boats, but gave Neville and Hermione a grin as she took her seat. 

“Potter, Harry!” took a long moment to Sort, about as long or even a bit longer than Hermione. Before too long, however, the hat shouted “Gryffindor!” and Harry was walking over to sit with Neville and Hermione, a giant smile on his face. 

A few more people were Sorted, but the only student left Neville cared about was Ron. A clump of red hair in Gryffindor suggested Ron would be with his brothers, but Neville knew it wouldn’t be official until the hat said so. He found himself crossing his fingers under the table. 

“Weasley, Ronald!” 

Ron walked up to the stool, looking more nervous than excited now that most everyone else had been Sorted. However, the hat was only on his head a few seconds before shouting “GRYFFINDOR”, and a very relieved-looking Ron joined Harry, Hermione, and Neville. 

After that, Zabini, Blaise was Sorted into Slytherin, and the Sorting Ceremony was over. Albus Dumbledore himself stood up to make a speech. Neville felt a spike of resentment for the man who had kept him isolated his whole childhood, as well as awe that _ the _Albus Dumbledore would be his headmaster. 

“I’d like to say a few words before the Feast. Nitwick! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” 

With that the headmaster sat down and plates piled high with food appeared on every table. Neville turned to look at Hermione to see if she had any insight to what that possibly meant, but she looked as confused as Neville. However, all the upper years ignored it and began eating, so Neville decided to shrug it off, too. 

Apparently differences in upbringing was a popular topic for first years, because they continued talking about that, with the addition of Seamus, an Irish wizard whose mum was a witch and dad was a Muggle, and Dean, a Muggleborn boy. Even the Gryffindor ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, was involved in the conversation. Neville took a moment to appreciate the feeling that he _ belonged _. No one was pointedly ignoring him or talking over him, and people listened when he spoke. Not even the seventh years were condescending or disdainful towards him. He was so used to being the only kid at a table full of witches in their 70s and 80s that he hadn’t realized how nice being around his peers would feel. 

Dumbledore got up after most people had finished their desserts and made a real speech. He emphasized that there was a corridor on the third floor that was off-limits to anyone who did not wish to die a painful death. Neville thought that was another weird Dumbledore joke, but everyone else seemed to take it seriously. He heard Ron’s older twin brothers, the same ones who had told him he had forgotten to take off the Sorting hat, whispering with their friend about it. It sounded to Neville like they were going to disregard Dumbledore’s warning and try to break into the corridor. He looked around the Great Hall and noticed a lot of older students were whispering excitedly and wondered if Dumbledore might have been better off simply not mentioning it. 

Before the speech ended, Neville and a lot of the other younger students were almost falling asleep. It wasn’t a particularly long speech, but it had been a very long day. Dumbledore dismissed them, and they marched out of the Great Hall to the discordant sounds of everyone singing the school song to their own tune. The Weasley twins ended last, having sung to a slow funeral dirge. 

Finally, they went up to the Gryffindor common room. There was a password for the door, but Neville forgot it almost immediately. The newly-Sorted Gryffindor boys followed the prefect, who was another of Ron’s brothers, up a set of stairs to the first year’s dorm. Neville was pleased to see his luggage and some very comfortable looking beds. He crawled into the warm blankets of the bed near his trunk and before he knew it, he was fast asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about having some people Sorted different than they were in canon for the Drama of it, but I decided to stick with canon. I'm going to stick with canon in general unless I can think of an in-universe reason why something would change directly related to Neville being the Boy-Who-Lived or Voldemort being a little, tiny bit smarter. Which will bring up some interesting changes, don't you worry, this is not simply canon told another perspective, but for now things are pretty similar. I'll try to get the next chapter up sooner-- I realize a month between updates is kind of a lot.


	5. First day of classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has rejection sensitive dysphoria! Neville has a lot of self-doubt and insecurities about whether the Golden Trio from canon actually want to be his friends! Snape is still a jackass because I'm keeping this close-ish to canon! Other things change majorly because that's how the story decided to write itself, not actually how I planned it!

The next day, Neville woke up to find Ron and Harry had waited for him before heading down to breakfast. He felt sudden happiness-- he really did have friends! When they made their way downstairs, Hermione was waiting for them. She sprung up from where she was sitting near the fireplace and started gushing about everything she had learned about Hogwarts so far. She barely stopped to breathe as she told them about the various subjects were taught at Hogwarts and what their schedules might be like and her favourite fun facts from their textbooks-- all of which she had already read cover to cover. Harry and Ron seemed to tune her out, but Neville was pretty interested in the information she was providing. He hoped that being friends with her and paying attention to her extra lectures would help him do better in his classes. 

They got to the Great Hall and found seats. While they helped themselves to breakfast, Professor McGonagall handed out class schedules. Neville was relieved to see that he didn’t have Potions until Friday-- though he noted with disappointment that it was a double class. He hoped that having Hermione as a life raft would make that class less miserable. His Great-Uncle had let him help with potions before and the results were always disasterous. 

He kept looking at the schedule to take his mind off of dreading Potions. He noted that Herbology was one of their first classes, and felt his anxiety lessen a bit. He was  _ good  _ at helping Uncle-Algie with the Manor gardens. 

The walk to the greenhouses was long and muddy due to recent rain, and Neville could only imagine how much worse it would be midwinter. However, he thoroughly enjoyed his first Herbology class. He quickly got on Professor Sprout’s good side. He was eager to volunteer to help out and share what knowledge he had-- which turned out to be more than he realized, although less than Hermione, who clearly hadn’t been lying about having already read the entire textbook. She even seemed to have memorized it. However, Neville thought he was better than her at the practical stuff. He  _ loved  _ working with magical plants, and Hermione just didn’t have the same passion. 

Charms wasn’t bad, which was more than Neville could have hoped for. He wasn’t terrible at it, although sometimes even when he did the wand motion and the incantation  _ exactly  _ right it didn’t work, which was frustrating. Transfiguration  _ was _ pretty bad-- it was hard, and required a lot of concentration. Hermione was the only one in the whole class to have any success with their first assignment. Even then, her match had definitely not turned into a needle-- it had only gone kind of silver. It was still enough for her to get high praise from Professor McGonagall and validate Neville’s belief that being her friend was a good choice. History of Magic was terrible because it was boring and Neville was prone to falling asleep. Astronomy was hard too, but only because it required a lot of memorization and it was at midnight, which made the next day hard to get through. Defense Against the Dark Arts was kind of a joke. Professor Quirrell was a nervous, stuttering wreck, and it had a very negative impact on his credibility. Neville, well-acquainted with nervousness, felt bad for him, but he also felt bad for himself and all his classmates given they clearly wouldn’t be learning much. 

Before he knew it, it was Friday and time for Potions. Neville was reluctant to get out of bed. On top of his bad history trying-- and failing-- to help Great-Uncle Algie brew potions, the upper years had told them stories about how mean Professor Snape was, especially to Gryffindors. It made Neville dread potions more than he already had been, which was quite a lot as he’d had all week to think about how much he  _ didn’t  _ want to attend potions class. 

He eventually got up and got ready with the help of his dormmates. Once they made it down to the common room, Hermione tried to keep everyone optimistic. “The upper years have pranked us in a lot of ways, maybe they’re just pulling our legs by making Professor Snape seem terrible,” she said as they walked down to the Great Hall. “He can’t be that bad, Professor Dumbledore would have fired him by now if Professor Snape was truly abusive,” she said as they ate their breakfast. “Professor McGonagall is pretty strict but still a good teacher, maybe Professor Snape will be the same but he’s Slytherin,” she said as they walked down to the dungeons, where the class was held. Neville recognized Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle and realized that meant the Slytherins must be in the same class. He felt his stomach drop even further. 

“Hermione, please stop, you’re not really helping,” Ron said. “All this talking about it is making me more nervous.” 

Hermione turned red and Neville noticed she kept her mouth shut after that. Neville felt bad for her, he could tell it had stung even though Ron hadn’t been mean. 

“So the Boy-Who-Lived somehow got into Gryffindor even though he needed his little friends to kick me out of his compartment on the train? How’d you do that, Longbottom? Did they put you in Gryffindor because the Sorting hat knew your face would match the Gryffindor colors when you forgot to take it off?” Malfoy asked. 

“Shut  _ up _ , Malfoy. We get that you wanted Neville to be one of your minions, but he’s not and you don’t need to make enemies of us just because your life is dull,” Harry said. Ron glared as if he were ready to throw a punch. Neville felt himself turn red and tried to ignore it. 

“As if I wanted that clumsy lard to be my friend after I saw what a pathetic loser he is!” Malfoy said, and Neville continued to try to ignore it, but it was a lot harder now that he felt tears threatening. He couldn’t cry, he could  _ not  _ cry, no one, least of all the Slytherins, would let him live it down if he did, he  _ could not cry _ . He repeated that mantra in his head and it sort of worked-- he didn’t start crying, although the feeling that he might didn’t go away. 

“He’s not a pathetic loser! You’re the pathetic loser, starting fights as soon as you possibly can, did mum and dad not give you enough attention? Or maybe too much and now you miss being their special boy?” Harry retorted. 

The door to the classroom they had been waiting outside of opened. “Potter? Fighting already? I should have known you’d be just like your father. Five points from Gryffindor.” 

Harry didn’t even seem to notice the point deduction-- he just looked vaguely shocked and confused. Neville knew that Harry’s parents were tortured to insanity when Harry was only a year old-- it was shortly after Neville’s parents had been murdered. In fact, the Death Eaters who tortured the Potters had done it in direct retaliation to You-Know-Who’s defeat, which made Neville feel terrible about when he thought of it. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had both ended up in the long-term ward of St. Mungo’s after the attack. As far as Neville knew, they were still there. It had also landed Harry’s godfather in Akzaban, for he had sought revenge. That was part of why the attacks were so well-known. The Ministry had made an example out of Sirius Black so that everyone would know it was no longer acceptable for civilians to use Unforgiveables, even on Death Eaters. He spent a few years in Azkaban, had to pay a rather hefty fine, and got his name and face smeared in  _ the Daily Prophet _ . Neville’s gran had told him all about it, trying to spark an interest in politics in Neville. He didn’t care for politics despite his gran’s best efforts, but the story stuck with him. Sometimes he felt like he was better off than Harry, whose parents were alive but didn’t recognize him and whose godfather had had his life ruined, or at least derailed, by getting revenge. Neville, at least, knew his parents died protecting him, and his Gran had never seen the horrors of Azkaban first-hand. 

“It is now time to stop dawdling in the hallway and enter my classroom,” Snape said. Neville followed Ron as he led the four of them to a table in the very back row, as far away from Snape and the Slytherins as they could get. Harry still seemed out of it, and Hermione was watching him with a look of concern. 

“Silence,” said Professor Snape in a carrying whisper once they had all taken seats. Nobody had been talking. Snape’s reputation proceeded him. “I am going to take roll call. When I say your name, simply say ‘present’ and then resume being silent.” 

He began calling out names alphabetically by surname. He paused when he got to Neville. “Ah yes, our new  _ celebrity _ . Neville Longbottom.” 

“P-present,” Neville squeaked out, trying not to grimace as his voice cracked. He noticed Hermione frown and narrow her eyes. That helped a bit-- he felt comforted that someone else had noticed the Professor’s commentary and felt negatively enough about it to frown. 

The rest of roll call was normal except Professor Snape practically spat out Harry’s last name. Neville thought it was weird how obvious the professor was being about some long-ago emnity he must have had with Harry’s father. 

After roll call, Professor Snape made a very passionate speech about the ‘delicate art’ of potions which managed to insult most of the class, most of his other students, and most other areas of magic. Then, with very little warning, he turned on Neville. 

“Let’s quiz our resident celebrity, shall we? Longbottom, what potion comes from powdered root of asphodel infused with wormwood?” 

“W-well,” Neville stuttered. “Er, something to do with memory, or, er, having visions? I know wormwood has, er,” the word was at the tip of his tongue-- some fancy word his great-uncle used. He perked up as he remembered it. “Oh yeah, psychoactive properties.” 

“But you didn’t bother to read up on basic potions in which it is used? Fame  _ clearly  _ isn’t everything,” the Professor said, smirking. Neville’s felt like his insides were curdling and once again he had to repeat a mantra of ‘don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,’ to himself. He noticed Hermione’s hand wagging in the air, but Professor Snape apparently chose to pretend he did not. 

“Here’s another chance, Longbottom. Where would I find a bezoar?” 

Hermione somehow raised her hand even higher, but Snape continued to ignore her. “Er, isn’t that, er, in the kidney of an animal?” Neville said, vaguely remembering something his gran or great-uncle had said about bezoars being kidney stones. Perhaps he was remembering wrong. Snape’s sneer didn’t seem as though Neville had gotten the right answer. 

“Did you even  _ open  _ your Potions text before coming into class today, Longbottom?” 

Neville thought that was unfair. He liked Herbology, of  _ course  _ he had read ‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’, but a  _ bezoar  _ wasn’t an herb or a fungus and probably wouldn’t have been in there even if Neville was able to do as Hermione did and memorize entire textbooks. 

“A bezoar would be found in the  _ stomach  _ of a  _ goat, _ Longbottom, not a  _ kidney  _ and not just any animal. Last chance. What is the difference, Longbottom, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” 

“You  _ are _ trying to trick me!” Neville said before he could catch himself. “That’s two different names for the same plant! And a  _ bezoar  _ wouldn’t be in our book called One Thousand Magical  _ Herbs and Fungi _ ! It’s not an herb or a fungus, it’s a stone!” 

Snape finally showed an emotion-- angry surprise. “Ten points from Gryffindor for insolence,” he snarled. 

The rest of the Gryffindors started to complain, but Snape raised his pointer finger and said, “Silence! Or I will take more points away. I should anyway, as none of you took notes on Longbottom’s quiz.” 

Thankfully, that seemed to be the end of said quiz. Professor Snape pointed his wand at the blackboard and instructions for a potion appeared. Neville eagerly turned to Hermione when Snape told them to get into pairs. She nodded at him and they set up a cauldron together. However, it seemed that Hermione was more interested in ranting under her breath about Snape than brewing the potion. 

“That was  _ utterly  _ unfair of him to  _ single you out _ like that I cannot  _ believe  _ such an unprofessional  _ jerk  _ is a  _ Professor  _ and  _ I _ gave him the  _ benefit of the doubt _ ! And that’s not even  _ mentioning  _ how weird he was to poor Harry, whose father’s incapacitation is  _ highly publicized  _ so it’s not like Snape can’t know that his father’s in  _ St Mungo’s  _ and that’s not exactly something to  _ joke about  _ or  _ brush off like it’s nothing  _ and trying to  _ trick  _ you while making it look like a  _ quiz _ \--” 

“Hermione, please help me, I have no idea what I’m doing and our potion is not going well,” Neville interrupted. 

She looked surprised and, again, a little offended even though Neville had been quite polite. Her head swiveled between their potion and the instructions on the blackboard and she suddenly gasped. 

“Did you add the dried nettles?” she asked him. 

“Er, no? I don’t know. This is why I’m bad at potions. Something about reading a list of instructions overwhelms me and then I immediately forget what step I’m on,” Neville said, trying not to sound like he was whinging. 

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she added dried nettle leaves and stirred. “Hmm, I wonder if there’s some way we could work around that.” 

Neville shrugged and watched Hermione fix their potion. By the end of the class, Hermione had calmed down by focusing on the potion, which saved it from anything Neville had done wrong. He looked around at the other Gryffindors’ potions and thought he and Hermione had the best one. It looked closest to the one that Malfoy made which Professor Snape  _ claimed  _ was the best in the class. However, it was abundantly clear that Snape played favourites, so Neville took that with a big grain of salt. Dean and Seamus had somehow melted their cauldron, and Snape had accused Harry and Ron of intentionally sabotaging Dean and Seamus to make themselves look better, taking away even more points from Gryffindor. There was no getting around it-- Professor Snape was a jerk who hated Gryffindors and, for some reason, both Harry and Neville in particular. 

By the end of the double period, the Gryffindors were stressed out and the Slytherins looked  _ very  _ smug. Gryffindor had lost nearly twenty points in one class, and Slytherin had only gained points. Neville found himself wondering how  _ any  _ house but Slytherin ever won the house cup with Snape as a professor. 

Harry caught up to Neville and Hermione on their way out, Ron on his heels. “I got an owl from Hagrid earlier,” he told them. “He invited me and my friends to come down to his cabin for tea. I think it would be  _ very  _ nice after that horrible lesson. Would you two like to come with me and Ron?” 

One thing stuck out to Neville-- Harry had just casually confirmed that they were friends. 

“That sounds nice, what do you think, Neville?” Hermione asked--  _ also  _ confirming that  _ they  _ were friends. Despite the terrible lesson, he suddenly felt great. A few nights in the past week he found himself lying awake, wondering if they actually liked him, or if they just felt bad for him, or maybe just wanted him in their friend group because of his fame. This conversation made it seem like they actually did want to be his friends. 

Neville grinned, hoping his appreciation at being included was written on his face. “That sounds like an excellent way to take our minds off of Snape.” 

The four of them walked down to the grounds, heading for a cottage that Harry assured them was Hagrid’s home. Harry knocked. They heard what sounded like a vicious dog barking and growling from the other side of the door. “ _ Back  _ Fang!  _ Back! _ ” they heard Hagrid yelling. Neville exchanged an unsure look with Hermione, but the door opened to Hagrid’s friendly grin. He was, in fact, holding his dog back, but the dog seemed more likely to jump on them excitedly than to attack. 

“Come in, come in, before Fang can get out,” Hagrid said, and they did so. They made themselves comfortable around a wooden table near the fire place. Hagrid got to fixing them cups of tea. 

Harry picked up a newspaper, and remarked on the headline. “Gringotts break-in? I thought it was impossible to break into Gringotts?” 

“Ar, well, someone seems to have managed,” Hagrid said, darkly. 

“It’s a good thing the vault had just been emptied,” Harry said, continuing to read the article. 

“Well, I reckon Dumbledore must have had a hu-- er, how was classes?” Hagrid asked. Harry finished the article and put down the paper. Hermione snatched it up. 

“Dumbledore?” Ron clarified. 

“What does Dumbledore have to do with the Gringotts break in?” Hermione asked. 

“That was a mistake and I shouldn’t’ve said it,” Hagrid said. 

“Please tell us Hagrid?” Harry said, making puppy dog eyes that Neville might have found funny if he hadn’t also been curious. 

“No. It’s between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel and has nothing to do with the students, especially a buncha firs’ years!” Hagrid said, sounding irritated. 

“Nicholas Flamel? Why does that name sound familiar?” Harry said. 

“It sounds familiar to me too,” Ron added, his voice thoughtful. 

Hagrid turned red. “Please stop askin’ me, I’m not supposed ter tell any of the students any of this and  _ again _ , yer on’y firs’ years! Now, would ya like some rock cakes?” 

“Do you know what was in the vault that was broken into?” Harry asked. Neville was starting to feel uneasy about continuing to push Hagrid now that he was so obviously uncomfortable, but it seemed that Harry had no such qualms. 

Hermione, on the other hand, also seemed uncomfortable with the turn the situation had taken. “I’ll try some rock cakes,” she said, latching on to a possible subject change. 

Hagrid looked from Harry, who was still doing puppy-dog eyes, to Hermione, who was simply giving a polite smile. 

Neville felt the need to break the tension. “The first week of classes sure has been interesting!” he said desperately, unable to stand it any further. 

The tension didn’t quite break right away, but Harry sighed and gave up on the puppy dog eyes. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop asking,” Harry said. “I’m sorry for not giving up on it sooner, I can tell you’re uncomfortable with letting the information loose, Hagrid. I’m just really curious about it! Isn’t this something like the first time Gringott’s has ever been broken into? What’s  _ not  _ interesting about that?” 

“Tha’s true, and I do understand, but you need ter understand I can’t talk about it,” Hagrid said. “Anyway, how were yer classes?” 

Hermione, Neville, Ron, and Harry vehemently complained about Snape, who Hagrid defended as a fellow member of staff. Neville thought it seemed a little half-hearted, but he supposed it did make sense for Hagrid to stay out of it for professional reasons. They did try the rock cakes Hagrid offered but found them inedibly hard. The evening passed very pleasantly, and Harry had been right that it was just the thing to take their minds off of their terrible Potions lesson. 


	6. Flying Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I saved this as a draft and now I can't find it, but AO3 still thinks this should be Chapter 7 rather than 6... is it out there somewhere? Will this someday have two chapter 6s? Apologies for any "this-is-my-first-work-on-AO3" related formatting issues. Especially the whole "there's a space at the end of an italicized bit" that I'm not sure how to fix. Anyway, Neville and the gang have flying lessons with the Slytherins. He overhears something quite troubling.

Harry wanted them to research Nicholas Flamel, and Hermione enthusiastically agreed to help. Ron, on the other hand, complained about doing extra work “and not even for class!”, and Neville agreed with him. By the end of the weekend, however, he and Ron were caught up on their class assignments thanks to Hermione’s help and had to concede that there wasn’t much else to do. All four of them scoured the library for any hint of Nicholas Flamel. They didn’t make much progress, as the Hogwarts library was  _ huge _ , but Harry was determined not to give up, and Hermione seemed invigorated by the challenge. 

In the meantime, he received a remembrall from his Gran, which was a nice gesture and Neville tried to keep it on him out of some sense of obligation he didn’t bother to examine. It didn’t tell him  _ what  _ he had forgotten, just that he had forgotten  _ something _ , so it didn’t help with anything and it was nearly always red. Hermione had been somewhat interested in it before she came to the same conclusion Neville had about it being rather pointless. Ron and Harry were both used to magical trinkets and knew it was pointless as soon as the Longbottom owl delivered it. 

There had been a flyer in the common room stating that first year flying lessons began this week, their second week of classes. Neville now had something besides potions class to dread, and just like potions, the few days before the dreaded lesson slipped by quickly. Before he knew it, it was the breakfast before flying lessons and Hermione was hiding behind the cover of  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ , as if reading a book on quidditch would help her with flying. The more Neville thought about it, the more he figured it couldn’t hurt, and so he tried reading over her shoulder. 

“Can I help you?” she asked. 

“ _ Can  _ you? Are you learning anything helpful about flying? I’m terrified I’m going to just fall off my broom and everyone is going to make fun of me for being clumsy and bad at flying,” Neville responded. 

“Oh,” Hermione said. “No. This book isn’t helpful for tips on flying.” She brightened a little and said, “although if you want to learn about the rules of quidditch it’s great!” Her voice went back to being regretful as she finished. “But it is unfortunate that there were no flying tips, because it was the only book in the library that looked remotely promising.” 

She closed the book and sighed, pushing some eggs around her plate. “I’m scared of the flying lesson, too,” she said, looking down at her food. Neville could tell she was a bit embarrassed to admit it. “I’m not really good with physical activities and heights.” 

“Me neither,” Neville said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m pretty clumsy.” 

Hermione gave him a small smile. “No, I’ve noticed.” 

“Can you guys stop looking like you’re going to an execution?” Ron said, in a tone Neville privately thought was rather rude. 

“Or another double potions…” Harry added. 

“It’s flying lessons!” said Ron. “It’ll be fun! Stop worrying!” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s not like I’m worrying on purpose for the fun of it, Ron.” 

“I’m very clumsy and worried about being ten feet or more in the air,” Neville added. 

“You’re just scared because you can’t learn how to fly from reading a book!” Ron said, ignoring Neville. Dean and Seamus both snorted into their breakfast, trying to cover up their laughs. 

“Mate--” Harry said, but was cut off by Hermione slamming her hands on the table. She got up and walked away in a huff. 

Neville considered going after her, but Harry said something about how it was about time to go down to the pitch for their lesson, so Neville decided to stick with him and Ron. It felt a bit like betraying Hermione, since Ron  _ had _ just been a bit of an arsehole, but Neville didn’t feel like he had much of a choice when running after her meant he might be late. As much as he was not looking forward to the lesson, it would be embarrassing if the instructor had to call him out in front of everyone because he was late. 

When they got down to the quidditch pitch, Hermione was already there. She must have stormed off straight to the lesson which did seem like a rather Hermione thing to do. Neville was worried her feelings had been seriously hurt, but besides glaring at Ron she seemed fine. She was with Parvati and the other Gryffindor girl, Lavender. All three of them looked pretty apprehensive. Neville looked around to see how everyone else was taking the upcoming flying lesson. Most of the Slytherin girls looked rather excited. The kid who Neville vaguely remembered as Zabini, since he had been Sorted last, looked nervous. Malfoy and his cronies looked just as excited as all four of Neville’s dormmates were. It felt a little weird to be the only Gryffindor boy who wasn’t jumping up and down with excitement. 

Neville thought about going over to join Hermione and the other Gryffindor girls, but a loud whistle got his attention before he made up his mind. A woman who would presumably be leading the lessons walked over. “Hello students,” she said. “My name is Madam Hooch and I will be your flying instructor.” 

She proceeded to explain some basic safety precautions, then instructed everyone to follow her over to two rows of broomsticks set on the ground. As they did so, Ron poked Neville with a gentle elbow to the side. “Neville, you really do look like you’re off to another double potions. What’s the worst thing that can happen?” 

“Well, I could fall off my broom, hurt myself, everyone laughs at me, and everyone teases me about it for the whole rest of the time I’m at Hogwarts,” Neville said, feeling defensive. 

“You’ve never flown before? Your gran never let you try out a toy broomstick or anything?” Harry asked, looking confused by the very concept. 

“Well, yeah, and I fell off of it, hurt myself, and was never allowed to do it again. My gran was half-convinced I was a squib,” Neville said miserably. “She thought that maybe defeating You-Know-Who had squandered all my magic. Or at least she did until my great-uncle tried to kill me a few times, but they said that was because--” 

“Quiet! Stop talking and pay attention please!” Madam Hooch said, and Neville felt grateful that he had to drop the subject. He probably shouldn’t have said that. He was probably just being dramatic. He hadn’t died. According to his family, they had known he wasn’t a squib and were just forcing his accidental magic. He really shouldn’t go around saying Great-Uncle Algie had “tried to kill him”, especially without explaining the context. He shuddered to think what his Gran would say if that somehow came back to her. 

He gratefully focused on Madam Hooch instead of thinking about Great-Uncle Algie. “You should all be standing next to a broomstick now,” Madam Hooch said. “I want you to hold your dominate hand out, and say ‘up’. The broom should come to you.” 

Neville tried it. It did not work. He thought that maybe his broom had twitched a little, but that was all. Harry’s made it right into his hand his very first try. Ron’s broom lifted into the air but he had to lunge forward to catch it. Neville kept looking around to see how everyone else was doing. Some people, such as Malfoy, had got their broom to come straight to their outstretched hand after a few tries. Other people had to catch their broomstick, like Ron had, but most of the students were holding a broom within a few minutes of trying. He realized maybe he should try again instead of just watching everyone else, and gave it another shot. 

It felt like it was ten or more times of saying, “Up! Up. Up? Please up?” until it worked, but finally the broom lifted enough that he was able to grab it. It did not come straight to his hand like Harry’s had, but Neville hadn’t really expected it to. Maybe brooms could sense fear like he’d heard horses could. He looked around again. Hermione was frowning down at her broomstick like it had personally offended her by staying on the ground. Since she liked to be the best in every class, it probably  _ had  _ offended her. Parvati and Lavender were simply chatting, their brooms lying in the grass, forgotten. They were the only three not holding a broom. 

“Ladies, I want you to keep trying until you have your broomstick in your hand,” Madam Hooch said, noticing Parvati and Lavender slacking off. Unfortunately, Hermione didn’t notice that her dormmates had apparently given up and seemed to take Madam Hooch’s light admonishment personally. She looked near tears and was practically radiating frustration. Neville  _ really  _ wished he had gone over to stand with her. Luckily, Lavender and Parvati, once they were holding their brooms, noticed Hermione’s plight and calmed her down. Finally, Hermione was able to get her broom to come to her hand. 

“Alright,” said Madam Hooch. “I see you are all holding a broomstick now. Excellent. The next thing you are going to do is mount your brooms. I will come around and examine your grip and stance before we proceed to actually flying.” 

That bit didn’t take long, and Neville, Harry, and Ron were delighted to watch Madam Hooch correct Malfoy’s grip. His brags that he’d been flying since he could walk seemed a lot less impressive when he had apparently been doing it wrong the whole time. 

“Alright, I think we’re ready to try to fly. On my whistle, please  _ gently _ kick yourself off of the ground and hover just a few feet in the air. One, two…” 

Before she could even say three, Neville was moving. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened. He went up much too quickly and then, even more quickly, came falling back down. The result was that he found himself on the ground, his forearm crooked in a way that clearly meant something was not right. Shocked sobs came from his mouth, and he reprimanded himself for crying in front of the Slytherins even though he really couldn’t help it. Madam Hooch picked him up and whisked him off to the Hospital Wing after a short warning to the other first years that boiled down to ‘don’t do anything stupid’. Luckily, Neville was still in shock and didn’t feel any pain, but Merlin, his  _ arm  _ was  _ crooked _ . 

After that the next thing he was aware of was Madam Pomfrey, Hogwart’s own Medi-witch, fixing his arm. It was relatively quick and easy, but she wanted to keep him for a few hours in case of any complications. She told him there could be shards of bone still in his body, which made him regret asking for more details about  _ why  _ he was supposed to stay. She gave him a calming draught and encouraged him to take a nap while he was stuck under observation, assuring him she’d wake him when he could leave. 

He did not fall asleep, at least not all the way. After a bit of time had passed, he was suddenly very aware that he was overhearing Professor Snape’s voice. 

“Here’s the batch of spare potions I’ve brewed for the Hospital Wing,” he said in his droning monotone. 

“Thank you very much Severus. How are you? You look like you haven’t been sleeping!” Neville heard Madam Pomfrey say. He was surprised anyone could sound so concerned about the dour potions master. 

“I haven’t been. Did Albus tell you what I  _ discovered  _ about Quinirus?” 

“Yes, he did mention it. Nasty business, that. Being possessed by You-Know-Who when we all thought he was dead and gone! You’ve been keeping an eye on him then?” 

What. 

“Not on  _ him _ , on that accursed stone that Dumbledore  _ insists  _ needs to be here at Hogwarts for better safe-keeping.” 

Madam Pomfrey tutted. “Well, Albus knows best, right?” 

“I suppose we must hope so, given that he is our best chance at preventing the Dark Lord from coming back to power.” 

“Well, don’t hesitate if you need to take back one of your calming draughts or dreamless sleep potions for personal use,” Madam Pomfrey said in the same concerned tone. 

“I have my own personal supply, but thank you for the offer,” Professor Snape said. Neville relaxed a little as he heard Snape leaving, but it was a tad premature. “And what are  _ you  _ three doing here?” 

There was a moment of silence, which gave Neville some hope that it was his friends visiting him. After a moment, Harry’s voice revealed that Neville’s hopes were realized. “We’re visiting Neville, sir. He fell off his broom during flying lessons.” 

“That doesn’t surprise me. He should be asleep, knowing how liberal Madam Pomfrey is with calming draughts. I’m sure Ms. Granger would happily inform us that drowsiness is a side effect of calming draughts, whether or not we asked. Go visit the  _ Boy-Who-Lived _ ,” even though he couldn’t see him, Neville knew Snape was sneering. “There are no rules against visiting friends in the Hosptial Wing. Just be  _ sure  _ to be back in your common room by curfew. We wouldn’t want Gryffindor to lose any more points this early in the year because of you, now would we?” Snape sounded like it would be his pleasure to take more points from Gryffindor, and Neville found his dislike of the man deepening. His snide comment about Hermione didn’t go unnoticed either. 

“Yes sir,” Neville’s friends chimed. Soon enough they were in his field of vision, and he felt himself smiling for the first time since falling off his broom, let alone overhearing that You-Know-Who wasn’t really dead, which he was very much on purpose not thinking about yet. 

“You dropped your remembrall,” Harry said, his hand outstretched, holding the little red ball. Neville wondered what Harry could have forgotten as he took it. Unsurprisingly, it remained red in his hand. Maybe the blasted thing was simply broken. 

“Thanks,” Neville said. 

There was a moment of awkward silence before Harry spoke again. “I’m, er, well, erm... I made it onto the quidditch team. Malfoy tried to take the remembrall and I got it back from him.” 

“By  _ flying _ !” Ron interjected. “You should have  _ seen  _ it, Neville! It’s like Harry was  _ born  _ to be a Seeker, it was  _ incredible! _ ” 

“It was  _ dangerous _ and he’s lucky that he’s not  _ expelled _ ,” Hermione added, ignoring the way Ron and Harry both rolled their eyes at her. 

“Um, congratulations,” Neville said. There was another moment of silence. Neville debated for a moment whether or not to share the whole ‘You-Know-Who isn’t really dead and also possessed a professor’ thing, and decided on a split-second whim to go ahead and do so. “I just overheard Snape telling Madam Pomfrey something, well, really, really bad.” 

They all stared at him, clearly waiting for him to continue. “Er, well, according to Snape, You-Know-Who isn’t actually dead.” They didn’t say anything. Hermione and Ron both got wide-eyed but Harry looked rather stoic. “Professor Quirrell was  _ possessed  _ by him and now they’re keeping an eye on him and on some stone that’s here at Hogwarts for safe keeping.” 

“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming, Neville?” Hermione asked. Ron nodded a little bit. Harry looked at her the way Neville wanted to. 

“That’s a ruddy offensive thing to ask, Hermione!” Harry said. 

“Well, it’s a serious accusation! We need to consider the  _ more  _ rational options  _ first _ ,” she defended herself. 

“I  _ am _ sure, you just saw Snape leave! You know he was really here!” Neville was a little distressed. He had taken it for granted that his friends would believe him. 

Harry, at least, was taking him seriously. “My uncles always said that You-Know-Who was obsessed with becoming immortal and might not really be gone for good.” 

“They  _ what _ ? Did they tell that  _ to you _ ? That seems like an awful thing to tell a child!” Hermione fretted. 

“No, they didn’t tell it  _ to _ me, but sometimes I would eavesdrop on what they would talk about when they thought I was asleep. They talked about my parents sometimes,” Harry said, looking wistful. 

Hermione’s face fell. “I’m sorry. That’s really-- I don’t know. Could you write them about what Neville overheard and get their opinion?” 

Harry made a face like someone had set off a dungbomb. “It would mean having to admit that I had eavesdropped on them when I was younger.” 

“No it wouldn’t,” Ron said. “Why would it mean that? Just tell them what Neville overheard and don’t mention the fact that you know they were worried about it. You can say that you’re freaked out and want them to comfort you.” 

Harry looked thoughtful. “Actually, I think that would work.” 

Neville smiled up at his friends. “Thank you for believing me.” 

Hermione frowned. “Sorry for doubting you. It’s just so terrible! I don’t  _ want  _ to believe it! But I do, of course! You don’t even seem sleepy, I guess it was sort of irrational to think you might have been dreaming. And you know, I think I remember reading an article about you when I was researching wizarding society and history before Hogwarts where Headmaster Dumbledore said something about You-Know-Who not really being gone,” Hermione said. “I’ll review my books and see if I can find that.” 

And so, with Harry and Hermione having tasks in mind, they took off with Ron back to the Gryffindor common room. Neville stayed awake, never quite drifting off completely. Shortly after nightfall Madam Pomfrey told him that he was released from her care and could go sleep in his own bed. He made his way to Gryffindor tower to see if Harry or Hermione had made any progress. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has anyone else ever realized that, in canon, Neville says that Madam Pomfrey fixed his broken wrist within minutes and yet he still got locked out of the common room all evening? Were flying lessons at night? Did no one enter or leave the Gryffindor common room for a whole afternoon? What was going on there? So I did make a minor change to canon-- Neville had to chill for a few hours in the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey could make sure he's ok.


	7. the Midnight duel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville gets locked out of Gryffindor tower by mistake which ends up with him tagging along on an, erm, interesting adventure.

Neville made his way back up to Gryffindor tower without incident. He walked up to the Fat Lady, prepared to crawl through the hole behind her portrait and go straight to bed. 

Instead, he stood there in front of her, suddenly realizing he had  _ no idea  _ what the password to the common room was right now. He couldn’t remember  _ anything _ about it-- not what letter it started with, nothing that it rhymed with, nor any other association that could possibly help him remember it. The Fat Lady wasn’t showing any sympathy, either. No matter how much he begged or pleaded, she just told him, “No password, no entry.” 

After a very long ten or fifteen minutes, Neville gave up. He used his bag as a pillow and his cloak as a blanket and resigned himself to sleeping in the hall. Several hours passed before he started to nod off. Just when he finally started to fall into deep sleep, he was jolted awake by the sound of the portrait swinging open and voices whispering. He thought he might be dreaming, but the cold hard floor making his shoulder hurt seemed like an odd detail for a dream. 

He heard a familiar voice say a familiar name and realized that one of the whispering voices belonged to Hermione. “Harry, please, you can see that this is ridiculous, right?” she asked. 

Neville sat up, which startled the other three first years. 

“Neville?” Ron said. 

“Hi,” he said. “I got locked out. I couldn’t remember the password.” 

“It’s ‘pig snout’,” Hermione said. “You should go back in. These  _ selfish idiots _ are going to sneak to the  _ Trophy Room _ for, of all things, a  _ duel  _ with  _ Malfoy _ , which is a  _ terrible idea  _ that’s going to lose Gryffindor an  _ incredible amount  _ of House points and practically hand the House cup to Slytherin, not to mention--” 

“ _ Please _ give it a rest Hermione! We’re going whether you like it or not! Just go back to bed!” Ron whisper-yelled. 

“Fine!” she responded. “Pig snou-- oh, what?” 

The boys looked at the portrait to see what could have caused such a reaction in Hermione. The Fat Lady was gone. “What do I do  _ now _ ?” Hermione asked the empty portrait. 

“Wait for her to get back. Isn’t it lucky that Neville here can keep you company?” Ron said, his tone making it clear that he was very annoyed with Hermione. 

“Wait, I don’t want to stay here if you guys are going somewhere!” Neville complained. “Can’t I come along?” 

Harry and Ron exchanged a look, which made Neville once again very aware that the two boys were closer to each other than he was with either of them. Every time this happened, he felt a combination of jealousy, self-consciousness, and disappointment that was becoming familiar. He really wished he could have fallen into an easy best-friendship with at least one of the boys in their dorm, but he understood why chubby, accident-prone Neville Longbottom wasn’t anyone’s first choice in best friend. 

Harry spoke. “I guess we can’t really control whether you stay here or follow us, but if you follow us be sure to be  _ quiet _ . We don’t need Filch knowing what we’re up to.” He had an air of authority that also made Neville jealous. In fact, Neville was starting to think he was simply jealous of Harry, period. Harry was a perfect Gryffindor, brave and bold-- not meek and awkward like Neville. 

“I’m coming too,” Hermione said. 

“You were  _ just _ telling us not to go!” Ron responsed. 

“I’m not going to just sit outside the common room waiting for Peeves or Filch to come by!” 

“Yeah, I didn’t like being locked out, I think the Bloody Baron came by at one point,” Neville said. 

“Fine! I guess we’re all going!” Ron relented. 

“And we’re  _ going  _ to be late if we don’t go now, so let’s get a move on,” Harry said. The four of them started their silent journey through the corridors of Hogwarts. Neville was rather anxious about how many ways this could go wrong, but they didn’t run into any of the obstacles he feared. There were no ghosts, no patrolling professors, no Filch and no Mrs. Norris, which made their journey rather quick. Before Neville knew it, they were waiting in the shadows of various pedestals in the Trophy Room, keeping an eye out for Draco and his minions. “Are they running late, d’you think, or d’you think they’re forfeiting?” Ron whispered. 

No one responded. 

“It’s been almost ten minutes,” Hermione said. “Maybe we should just--” 

“Shh!” Harry shushed Hermione. 

They heard a voice and Neville realized why Harry had been so insistent that Hermione stop talking. “Keep sniffing around, my sweet, I’m sure they’ll be here somewhere…” they heard Filch say, quite obviously speaking to Mrs. Norris. 

“I think you’ve been set up!” Hermione whispered. 

“Yeah, I noticed. Bloody Malfoy!” Harry muttered. 

“What do we do?” Neville asked. 

“Go back to the common room,” Harry answered. The four Gryffindors shuffled back down the hallway as quietly as they could. 

Which turned out to not be very quiet at all when Neville tripped over his robes, falling straight into Ron and sending them both crashing into a suit of armour. Neville silently cursed his clumsiness and scrambled to untangle himself, but it was surprisingly difficult. He was tangled up in his robes, Ron’s robes, Ron’s rather long limbs,  _ and _ the suit of armour. 

“RUN!” Harry yelled, throwing all caution to the wind. A moment later, Ron and Neville had gotten themselves untangled and followed Harry and Hermione through the corridors. 

Another moment later, they heard Filch behind them. “I heard that! We’ve got them now, Mrs. Norris!” He said excitedly from somewhere much too close behind them, prompting the four Gryffindors to run faster. Harry led the way, although Neville thought that Harry probably didn’t know where he was going. 

They reached the end of the hall they were running down and Harry hesitated. They were at a T-shaped junction and Neville figured Harry was trying to decide whether they should go left or right. During the split second Harry hesitated, a voice that Neville unfortunately recognized spoke from above them. “Oh, what have we here?” They looked up to find Peeves floating over them, a huge grin on his face. “Wee little firsties out of bed! Naughty naughty, you’ll get caughty!” 

“Please Peeves, don’t tell on us, just stay quiet, we’re going back to bed anyway,” Harry begged. 

“Hmm,” Peeves said, and despite still being in his first couple of weeks at Hogwarts, Neville already knew that wasn’t a good sign. His instincts proved correct as Peeves took in a big, melodramatic breath, clearly only for show considering that he was a poltergeist and therefore didn’t actually need to breathe. He began shouting, “STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!” 

Harry turned left and started running again. They only made it fifteen or twenty yards before the corridor stopped at a dead-end that only had one door for any hope of escaping Filch and Peeves. Harry started yanking on it, but nothing happened. “It’s locked!” he said. 

“We’re done for!” Ron cried. “We’ll be expelled and my mum will never forgive me and--” 

“Oh move  _ over _ ,” Hermione said, shoving Harry to the side as she took her wand out and pointed it at the door. “ _ Alohamora _ !” She tried the door again and it opened. They all scrambled into the room and Harry slammed the door behind them. 

Neville froze. He was aware that his friends had turned around immediately and therefore hadn’t noticed what he noticed and were instead listening to what was happening on the other side of the door but  _ mostly _ he noticed the giant, three-headed dog that didn’t look happy about having been distrurbed. He tried to make words to tell Harry, Hermione, and Ron, but he was so startled and scared that he was having a hard time. There were sounds coming out of his mouth, but they weren’t complete names. “Ha… Her… Guys… There’s…” 

Finally someone noticed him. “ _ What _ Neville?” Hermione said. 

“Dog,” he got out, pointing at the Cerebus that looked about three seconds away from trying to rip their throats out. 

He heard a short, surprised scream or two, and the door opened again. He was thankful-- he would definitely take Filch  _ and  _ Peeves over being mauled to death by a giant, angry three-headed dog. 

By some stroke of luck, neither Peeves nor Filch were on the other side of the door. They ran all the way back to the Gryffindor common room, only stopping to catch their breath once they had safely climbed through the entrance. The Fat Lady had thankfully come back from where-ever her midnight travels had taken her. Once they crawled past her portrait they collapsed on the various couches and chairs in the empty common roomy. 

Hermione caught her breath first and jumped on the opportunity to reprimand them. “That was not smart. Malfoy definitely set you up. I doubt he ever intended to show up and tattling to Filch was his plan all along. ” 

Ron and Harry rolled their eyes and refused to look ashamed. Hermione ignored that. “Did any of you notice what it was standing on?” 

The three boys looked at her blankly. She sighed. “A  _ trapdoor _ . It’s clearly guarding something. I wouldn’t be surprised at  _ all  _ if it had to do with Nicholas Flamel and the Gringott’s break-in.” 

“Oh, speaking of that, did either of you have any luck? Harry, with your letter? Or Hermione, your research?” Neville said,  _ very  _ glad he had been reminded of it before he could forget. Knowing himself and his shoddy memory, he could have gone weeks without an update on either front if he hadn’t been reminded. 

“Oh yeah!” Hermione said, instantly cheered by having information to share. “There was a Daily Prophet article from November 2nd, 1981 that announced You-Know-Who’s defeat. Dumbledore was quoted as saying he wasn’t sure it was over and that You-Know-Who had gone further than any other wizard in history in trying to avoid death. I wonder if we could talk to Dumbledore about it? I mean, You-Know-Who  _ is  _ probably going to go after you again sometime, Neville, to avenge himself or something.” 

“Thanks for that,” Neville said. Of  _ course _ You-Know-Who not actually being dead meant he was going to go after Neville, but he didn’t necessarily enjoy being reminded of that fact. Hermione shot him an apologetic look and he shrugged. He knew she hadn’t brought it up to be mean. 

“I wrote my uncles, but they haven’t written back yet. I agree that it would be a good idea to talk to Dumbledore. I always heard he was the only wizard that You-Know-Who was afraid of,” Harry cut in, thankfully changing the subject from the likelihood of You-Know-Who going after Neville. 

“I dunno,” Neville mumbled. He  _ knew  _ he was mumbling, but he also knew the reason he didn’t want to talk to Dumbledore was stupid. 

“Why not?” Ron asked. 

“I don’t really like Dumbledore,” Neville said, continuing to mumble. 

“Why not?” Ron asked again, sounding more shocked than the first time. Harry also looked shocked, but Hermione looked thoughtful. 

“Well, it probably sounds dumb, but every time I wanted to leave the house, or do something, or meet someone’s kid I heard about, it was  _ always _ , ‘Dumbledore says you have to stay hidden, Neville’. Always! And I know it was like, to keep me from becoming a big-headed famous prat, or whatever, but I  _ hated  _ it. I was just a kid who wanted friends, you know?” 

“Oh, Neville,” Hermione cooed, giving him a hug. 

“Yeah that sucks, but I think we still need to talk to Dumbledore. We know You-Know-Who isn’t really dead and that there was something hiding in Gringott’s that got moved here to Hogwarts. We’re pretty sure those two things are related, which means You-Know-Who is involved. We can’t take on You-Know-Who alone, we’re eleven,” Harry said. 

“I’m twelve,” Hermione said, unhelpfully. “My birthday was two days ago.” 

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Neville asked. 

Hermione shrugged. “Um, I suppose I wasn’t sure if you would care.” 

“Of course we care! Happy late birthday,” Neville said. 

“Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter if one of us is technically twelve, we still can’t take on You-Know-Who without Dumbledore’s help,” Harry said. 

“That’s very true, but let’s worry about it tomorrow-- or, later today, rather. It’s probably almost two in the morning by now, so let’s just go to bed,” Hermione said. It was hard to tell in the light of the nearly-dead fire, but Neville thought she was blushing, probably about the birthday thing. 

“Definitely,” Neville agreed. “Maybe we’ll figure out how to talk to Dumbledore in the morning.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to upload. I want to have a complete, finished chapter in reserve before I post a new chapter and the one after this kept giving me issues... it SHOULD be posted soon, assuming chapter 9 doesn't give me too much trouble.


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